


Spa Day

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Loki is a Softie, Nail Polish, Spa Day, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 18:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18504982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Even the Rightful King of Jotunheim deserves a little R&R every once in a while.





	Spa Day

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: You convince Loki to join you in a spa day <3

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work right now, darling?”

You’re startled at first, but it’s only Loki, so you settle back against the couch, readjusting your cucumber slices over your eyes. “Took a half day,” you reply. “It’s been a rough week.”

You feel him poke the tip of your nose. “There’s something on your face, you know.”

“It’s a face mask. It feels nice, and not all of us are blessed with perfect skin, like  _ some _ people...”

“Hmm. I  _ am _ rather perfect—”

“You’re home early, too.”

“A certain someone assisted with the mission today, and tensions ran a bit high.”

You remove the cucumber slices from your eyes so that you can fix him with a stern glare. “You  _ really _ need to apologize to Bucky about the snake thing.”

“It was amusing,” he protests. “Everyone thought so.”

“Everyone but Bucky, clearly.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You mortals take everything  _ so  _ seriously.”

“You’re one to talk. You wanna join me?”

He takes it all in - the fuzzy bathrobe, the slippers, the face mask and scented candles - then laughs. “No,” Loki replies. “I don’t believe that is necessary.”

“C’mon,” you wheedle, patting the seat beside you. “It’ll be fun, I promise! And you can paint my nails, too.”

His eyes narrow. “You say that as if you are granting me some sort of favor.”

“But you’re so good with the little designs!” 

“Your pouting would be much more effective if your face wasn’t coated in green paste, my love.” He licks his fingertip, and his nose wrinkles. “Disgusting. What  _ is  _ that?”

“It’s clay, you aren’t supposed to  _ eat  _ it, weirdo.” You tug on his button-down shirt, pulling it free from his pants. “Have a spa day with me, please? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Loki inhales sharply as you unfasten his belt. “I’m listening.”

“That’s the spirit! There’s another robe already warm and toasty in the dryer; I’ll go get it.” Springing to your feet, you give Loki an affectionate little smack on the butt. “Get those work clothes off, handsome.”

“Wait—” Loki begins, but you’ve already skipped off to the laundry closet next to the bathroom. 

He’s entirely naked by the time you get back into the living room, leaning against the back of the couch. “You could’ve left your underwear on,” you tell him as you hold up the robe for him so slip into, “but I guess this works, too.”

“I was hoping to distract you.”

“I figured.” You tie the robe firmly around his waist, grinning up at him. “It’s not gonna work, though.”

Now  _ he’s _ the one pouting. You push him down onto the couch, and the robe rides up to his knees, clearly not designed with someone of his height in mind. “I fail to see the point to all this,” he complains, and when he sees you uncap the little jar that holds the clay mask, he waves dismissively. “None of that.”

“Too late,” you reply, dabbing a glob of clay onto his nose. “You’re going to have some rest and relaxation, whether you like it or not.”

“Very well,” Loki grumbles, but he stops complaining once you climb onto his lap. 

“See? It feels nice, right?”

“It feels cold.”

“Cold is  _ nice.” _

He slides his hands up your hips, likely hoping that he can still steer the evening in a more amorous direction. “Is it?” he asks, a sly smirk on his lips. 

“Yep.” You push his head back against the couch. “Lean back, otherwise your cucumber slices will fall off.”

_ “Please _ don’t put fruit on my eyes. Allow me to retain some small scrap of my dignity.”

“You’re still super dignified,” you soothe, carefully placing a cucumber over each eye. He remains perfectly still, like he’s afraid you’ll abandon his lap if he actually tries to escape. “Majestic, even.”

Loki hums in contentment as you massage his shoulders. “Would you like for your king to rub  _ you _ down, darling?”

“Maybe in a little while.” His hands start to wander, and you smack them away. “We’re supposed to be  _ relaxing,  _ Loki.”

Sighing in resignation, he settles back against the cushions. “Once the lacquer on your nails is dry,” he says, “know that I am going to ravish you.  _ This _ is my bargain.”

“Sounds fair,” you reply, but he’s kind of hard to resist the urge to jump him when his voice drops like that, so you decide that it’s probably a good time to make a graceful exit from his lap. 

You snuggle against his side on the couch, and once you’ve retrieved your own cucumber slices, you lean your head back against his shoulder. Loki’s arm wraps around you, and he takes your hand in his, your fingers twining. 

“I begin to worry that I spoil you,” he says after a moment. “Or do I fail to spoil you  _ enough?  _ These are the questions that plague me.”

“I think I feel sufficiently spoiled, most of the time. How about you?”

His thumb smooths across the back of your hand. It takes him a minute to answer, and you worry that maybe you’ve accidentally triggered one of his bouts of melancholy. “I would say that I am fortunate.”

You squeeze his hand - a kiss on the cheek will have to wait until your faces aren’t both smeared with green goop. “Me, too.”

He stirs slightly, and music starts to play from the sound system. It’s soft and soothing, and nothing that you recognize. “Asgardian mountain music,” Loki says, anticipating your question. 

“We have a record of that?”

“No. It is playing from my memory.”

_ Freaky,  _ you think,  _ but nice. Perks of being in love with a magical otherworldly deity.  _

You both doze off; the sun is starting to set when you wake up, and the cucumber slices have slid down your cheeks. “Loki?” His head rests atop yours, and you wiggle slightly to rouse him. “Babe?”

“I am asleep,” he declares, tucking you more snugly under his arm. 

“Very convincing, Liesmith. It’s manicure time - get hyped!”

He plucks the cucumber slices from his eyes. His, unlike yours, didn’t budge an inch while he was asleep, and you envy his ability to remain flawless in pretty much every situation. Once he’s dropped them into the little bowl on the coffee table, he takes your hand again, examining it closely. “I am thinking gold for you, my queen. There is a certain nightgown in your wardrobe that they would complement  _ excellently—” _

“The emerald one? The one that’s almost see-through?”

“Yes,” Loki purrs. “That’s the one.”

Once you’ve wiped off your face masks with a nice steamy towel, Loki begins massaging your hands and arms, and you giggle; you’re just as ticklish as ever, even when you’re trying to be glamorous and stately. He selects a bottle of nail polish from the table. “You  _ are  _ going to hold still, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice stern. 

“Of course.”

He paints each nail with impressive precision, despite his speed. “I would add some gems, if I had any small enough to suit you. Next time, I suppose.” His breath is cold when he pulls your hand close to his mouth to blow the polish dry, and you get the distinct impression that he’s using magic to speed up the process. 

“Want me to do yours?”

“Hmm. Will it earn me any favors?”

“It  _ might.”  _

Loki offers you his hands. 

Black will look pretty fantastic against his pale skin, you decide; you aren’t quite as neat about it as he is, but you think you do a decent job. “I’d paint on some runes,” you tell him once you’re done. “That would look pretty legit, except I don’t think my hands are steady enough.”

“Like this?” he asks, and his fingernails shimmer gold for a moment, tiny, precise little runes tracing across them. 

_ “Woah.  _ Yeah, that’s much better than what I could’ve done. What do they say?”

“A spell.” He trails a finger down your arm, and an electric sort of icy-hot sensation follows his touch. “It would be easier to  _ show _ than to  _ tell.” _

“Okay,” you breathe, your eyes locked on his. “I think I’ve had enough relaxing for today, anyway.”

 


End file.
